Somewhere Between
by anagke
Summary: Snippets of Laguna, Kiros, and Ward on the wandering journey between Winhill and Esthar, apart from what the “faeries” saw. PLEASE review when you read. Thanks.
1. Dates and Times

__

somewhere between the figure lying on the bed pretending she's asleep and the doorway where we peek we can't help the things we need we walk away like angry gods our mouths so full of magic rocks but they crumble each time we speak and somewhere beneath our hands are feathers in the dust brush away the crumbles hush and we might finally reach if we held up a light she didn't see 

- "Somewhere Between" by Karen Pernick

Author's Notes: "Somewhere Between" is written "snippet style"--that is, unrelated-seeming short chapters connected by a common theme and telling a story. Chapters will be posted as they are completed; right now, I'm thinking a total of 8. This first snippet reflects on a rather out of character Laguna--how, I imagined, would the "cheerleader" type have felt right after having everything snatched away? I can't picture him as energetic as ever, not without turning some of that energy inward and negative. Just an explanation as to Laguna's behavior in the next chapter or two. We will see some change. I am not 100% happy with this chapter and will probably edit later on. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: Dates and Times

"What are you doing?"

The dark-haired man looked up from the notebook spread across his lap. The reflexes of an experienced writer kicked in, brushing away the little ragged bits of eraser off the page absently while he diverted his attention elsewhere. "Huh?"

Kiros let the gleaming katal rest on the side of the bed and joined Laguna at the cot. From that vantage, he received only a sideways view of Laguna's narrow scrawl across the pages. "You're writing. I thought you'd be working on your gun, raring to go again."

"It's nothing." Laguna searched for a hiding place and finally settled on shoving the notebook underneath the cot's thin, ragged pillow. He had not, however, counted on the dexterity of a man who wielded two long swords with ease. Barely time for a yelped protest before Kiros retrieved the portfolio and flipped it open, weighing its few meager sheets in his hands.

"This isn't an article." It had taken barely a week for priorities to change. A week ago only articles and thoughts and letters aimed at Timber Maniacs filled the notebooks in his bedroom. The one he shared with Raine.

"It's a letter!" He jumped to his feet, glad that Kiros handed over the journal without a fuss. "A letter to Raine, okay? I swear, I don't get any privacy around here."

"Privacy? You?" Kiros had a singularly rich laugh, even when it turned itself on Laguna. Which it often did. "I didn't know you knew the meaning of the word."

"Yeah." Normally, some joke would pass his lips, some little comment to lighten the mood and make it all seem okay. Instead, Laguna kicked back against the cot's legs, letting the leverage pull him to tired feet. A week of pushing himself to the limit, chasing the phantom sightings of Ellone's trail, had tired them all. It didn't help that the room stank of alcohol and dirty blankets, that the air conditioning was on the fritz in the height of a Galbadian summer. "I was gonna…oh, there it is." He'd thrown a blanket over the machine gun in case one of the hotel maids glanced into the room. No reason to cause too much panic, even though, from the streaked walls and rumpled covers, the maids seldom came here. Beside the gun lay a box of ammunition clips, a rag of soft cloth, and small bottle of oil. The sight represented comfort as much as battle--routine maintenance, letting his hands do the thinking in the automatic, instinctive rhythm of load, oil, polish. No reason to involve his brain at all. Yes, _please._

Except Kiros now leaned with his back flush against the wall, regarding Laguna with an expression on his dark face that was by turns thoughtful and concerned. Eyebrows drawn down slightly, eyes caught on Laguna's behind sleepless shadows, he pursed full lips slightly as though tasting an idea. Laguna didn't like that look. Kiros was thinking, and when Kiros loaded any sort of plan into his head it was always remarkably difficult to get him to let it go. 

Ward's arrival was a blessing, a huge lumbering distraction with a stuffed brown paper bag loading each arm. Kiros sprang from his perch to accept a bag or two, rifling through the materials with a practiced eye. He groaned; not a good sign. "Not sandwiches _again_!"

As soon as Ward had arrived from Galbadia for the wedding, both of his friends had begun the laborious process of learning his new sign language. So far, though, only Kiros had acquired any real fluency. "Yeah, I know we have to watch the budget for now. What'd we get? Cheese…pickled onions, oh God no…Laguna, dinnertime. Laguna?"

"Huh?" All right, so he wasn't a captain in the army any longer. He still led their little group, that carried certain priorities. Not that he'd ever claim to know what _responsibility_ meant. But it was enough to scrub the back of your wrist, roughly, across your eyes, force the barest semblance of a grin before turning. The view wasn't much, anyway, just a third-floor vista of the parking lot, around which spread the small town. Not much to recommend the entire place, except that it lay on the outskirts of Deling City and drew a few exiting tourists.

Ward's thick fingers signed something his blurry eyes couldn't quite make out. Wait…the how-are-you gesture, modified a little. _Are you okay?_

"Yeah. Of course." Oh, sure. Never mind that every second ticked in the clock in his head, marking time he's spent away from them, every step they took on Ellone's trail another pace or two farther from Winhill and Raine.

The other two men exchanged a look. Even Laguna could read the unease in their posture--tense backs, shoulders slightly bent as though under some uncomfortable burden. A quiet, somber Laguna was not something they knew how to handle.

He ate mechanically, trusting instinct to not let him choke. Around processed-cheese sandwiches and Deling City generic cola--about the cheapest meal Ward could find--he darted another look out the window. She was out there, somewhere. "We're leaving first thing tomorrow, right?"

Another shared look, another uncomfortable pause. Back in the good old days, he'd been the one to sleep in, to hit the snooze-button time and time again. It had been a running joke, Laguna's mumbled _just one more minute, guys._ "Yes," Kiros answered.

"Sunrise?"

"First thing," he agreed.

Laguna was surprised that he'd eaten almost half his sandwich. He didn't feel hungry, not with that same familiar weight of dread lying like lead in his stomach. Suddenly, the last bite went dry in his mouth. Grimacing, Laguna wiped his hand across the back of his lips--only Kiros among them would have remembered napkins--and rose. A second later, he sat back down on the edge of the bed, wincing a little, hands clutching his leg. Little tremors traveled up his right thigh, warning of the developing cramp.

Ward poked Kiros with his elbow, nodding towards the slumped, dark-haired man. 

Laguna didn't notice Kiros leaving the table until the taller man was standing beside him. His face had turned in profile, thrown into shifting shadows by the flicker of town lights beyond the open window. Laguna couldn't make out his expression, but that low tone was gentle. "Six days." 

Laguna jerked a little, normally-mild green eyes managing a glare.

"I wondered why you'd dated the letter like that. Six days since we left. Hyne, Laguna, you can't tear yourself apart like this. We _need_ you."

"Look." A deep breath summoned as much calm as he could manage. Hyne, he was no good at hiding his feelings. "I just _miss_ her, okay? Them. Elle and Raine. I'm not going to tear myself apart, 'cause the sooner we find Elle the sooner I can go home."

_Home._ That still had a strange sound to it, rolling off his tongue. Time was, just a few months ago, that he would have jumped at the chance to leave Winhill and travel the world with his two best friends. But, now, all of it paled beside the simple comfort he'd left behind. _Raine and Elle._ That said it all.

"Okay." Kiros' arms dropped to his sides as he turned away. Ward averted his own worried eyes when Laguna glanced up at the big man. Laguna had always served as group cheerleader, bowling over his friends with irrepressible energy and good spirits. Only now, that spirit turned itself inwards, gnawing at him from inside, driving him by turns to despondency and frantic activity.

Neither really seemed to help.

In the dim light, Laguna couldn't quite discern Ward's last, signed comment. Something along the lines of _leaving well enough alone_, punctuated by some private comment to Kiros, where he turned in the chair to block his hands from Laguna's view. Eyes locked on his own bare feet, Laguna ignored the exchange. He barely even registered the hand that briefly touched his shoulder, the murmur of "'night, Laguna" and the flicker of nightstand lights by Ward and Kiros' beds.

He stirred enough to turn, reaching for his own light. Stretched out on the extra cot, his notebook spread across his pillow with his nose only inches from the scrawled writing, Laguna studied the words in the puddle of warm yellow light. Words seemed so shallow, with Raine in Winhill and Laguna here, God-knew-where.

_Six days. Be home soon, I hope. Love, Laguna. _Words had never failed him before. He could work magic with them, make them come alive in passionate articles and essays. Now, however, they weren't alive. They didn't stir him or conjure any images. They just lay flat and uninteresting and vaguely painful against the page. Sighing, Laguna reached across the cot to shut off his own light. He lay awake for a long time, green eyes gleaming in the dark, but at least he didn't have to read those words over again.


	2. Luck's Favor

****

Chapter 2: Luck's Favor

"I don't think the random approach works." It was the third time Kiros had made that little observation.

"Luck always works if you trust it." _That_ was a reflex response, carrying the barest shadow of its normal good cheer. But it was still fun to produce that disgruntled scowl on Kiros' face, the kind Laguna only earned when he'd said something really ridiculous.

"That is the silliest thing even you've--"

"Hey, friend!" Laguna summoned a grin, looped his arm around the shoulders of a startled-looking passerby. "Have you seen this little girl?" The photograph clutched in one hand was wrinkled around the edges, a faded likeness and several months out of date. It was the best they had.

While the stranger frowned down at the picture, Laguna took a moment to soak in the view around them. Deling City, crown of Galbadia, all towering dark buildings and flashing marquees at this time of night, opulent hotels in glittering neon and carved granite paired with the tumble of street garbage overflowing the gutters, the slow shuffle of the throng on the street who had nowhere to go. He hadn't set foot here in well over a year. The memories behind that--emotions tangled behind guilt and regret and that vague bittersweet happiness--proved more than enough to distract them from the low tenor of the stranger's voice. Startled, he focused back on the man's face, on the sudden grin glowing across Kiros'. "Sorry…what?"

Kiros clucked, exasperated. The stranger just shrugged. "I said, little girl just like that, stopped at my shop to stare at the sweets maybe two, three days ago."

"You're sure it was her?" Laguna fought against the happy grin spreading across his lips. Logically, there had to be a number of dark-haired little girls in the city. But, as Kiros often observed, Laguna didn't have an intimate acquaintance with logic.

He squinted, tilting his head a little as he studied the picture. "Yeah. I think so. Looks the same. Hope you find her."

"Only you," Kiros breathed as the stranger patted Laguna's shoulder consolingly before he moved on.

"What did I tell you?" Laguna crowed. "Now all we have to do is ask down at the train station and we're practically home!"

"Uh…"

"I mean, trains only go to so many places, and people there would've seen Ellone." 

"Well…"

"And the people at the _next_ train station would have seen her, and at the _next…"_

"Okay." Nodding along with that logic, Kiros had obviously decided to pick his battles. "We'll try it your way." He darted a quick glance over his shoulder, and Laguna also realized what was missing. Silence aside, Ward wasn't easily overlooked.

"I thought he was asking people about Ellone." Laguna frowned, swinging a searching gaze at the crowd around them. A sober press of people, the occasional flash of blue military uniform around which parted the otherwise dark-clad crowd. Neon splashed color across the picture, hinted at the wildness behind the stoic face Galbadians showed to the world. This area of town abounded with clubs and bars--activity, fun, and danger lurked in healthy doses behind misleading drab facades.

"How can a mute man ask people anything? _I_ thought he went to reserve the hotel room."

"We're leaving tonight, right?" An expansive wave of his arm encompassed the glittery and dark panorama of the city at night. "I mean, when the train station tells us where we need to go. Why'd you reserve a _hotel_ room?"

"It's just--" Kiros sighed. "No, no. I'll go get him. Stay here." His hand clenched like a vise into Laguna's forearm. "I mean that. Don't do _anything." _Brown eyes locked on green, practically begging.

__

"Yeah, yeah." Laguna waved him off. When Kiros retreated, the other man remained for the moment too distracted to do much. Too much of it was familiar, a flood of memory and half-buried sensation, years of nights on the town while in the army, the excitement of twenty-four hours of leave, the overstimulation of the big city.

His feet carried him without conscious direction, taking him the routes of years before. The glitter and neon-lit night only intensified as he reached the wealthy quarter of the city, the rows of posh hotels and shops where few soldiers ventured…except ones infatuated with the lounge singers who worked there.

The Galbadia Hotel outshone even its most flashy companions, all lighted marquee and carved marble front. Laguna drifted around the outskirts of the building for a long time, watching the crowd enter and exit. He let his gaze travel over the old sites, battling the urge to enter. 

Julia wasn't there…and even if she was, the sight of him would only complicate what they'd both made of their lives. It was just the tickle of nostalgia at the back of his head, a longing that cut through the rushed, panicky chase. In these weak moments, he ached for the days where his only concern had been fretting over the lounge singer's true feelings. _And I got even that wrong, didn't I?_ Laguna chuckled over the memory, something good-natured. It was not in him to be bitter.

A year ago, he would have heeded that pleasant tingle through him, sought an hour or two in the lounge because it felt like a good idea _now._ Now, it couldn't erase the memory of Ellone's face, of Raine. Sighing, Laguna turned…and bumped into something big.

Someone. Definitely a someone. There was the blue of a Galbadian military uniform--yards of it, wrapped around tree-thick arms and legs, stretched to breaking across the breadth of chest. Laguna blinked up into the face, the squashed nose, eyes bleary and shot through with spidery red.

"Hi," Laguna offered.

"Watch it!" The other man shoved, one arm flung out as though to swat a fly. Laguna sidestepped the clumsy, drunken gesture easily enough, then stumbled over his own feet, one ankle bending under the other, knocking him backwards onto rain-slick pavement. The movement attracted brief attention--darted glances, the half-seen flash of a disparaging smile, a quick look of concern to the reeling big soldier. Without pausing, the crowd parted around them, a rough circle in deference to the man's obvious size.

Laguna laughed a little to himself, climbing to his feet easily enough. "Sorry 'bout that. Hey," he perked up, "I don't suppose you've seen a little girl, maybe five years old, about so high--" his hand indicated waist-height, "brown hair, blue--" The next shove cut him back, knocking the breath out of him as his back connected with the ridges of the hotel wall carvings. "Um, all right, then."

"You got 'n my way. Tried to _trip_ me. Little squirt." Another, harder shove, banging shoulder blades against the edge of the wall. Alcohol lay heavy on the stranger's breath, the cloying scent of something stronger than the wine served in the hotel.

"Y'know, I don't think of myself as little _or_ a sq--" Laguna paused to duck a punch. The soldier howled, jerking back knuckled bruised by the impact with stone. His face contorted, flushing purple under the rosy blush of drunken haze. "You goddamn--"

"Ouch." Laguna winced in sympathy. "That must've hurt. On your day of leave, too." He judged the response in the darkening of the man's scowl, the way the big fist doubled for a second time. "Bet they turned you away from the hotel, huh?"

The soldier cocked his head, distracted by the chatter. "What?"

"Yeah, they'll do that." Laguna's voice became low, confiding. "Got turned away once or twice, myself, before I made officer. They just don't work with the grunts, you know? They expect you to be in a suit and tie before they stop makin' faces at you."

"Hey, yeah." The drunk man relaxed, grimacing along with Laguna's expression. "Bastards. I _killed_ for them in Timber!"

"Rough…I did a tour there myself. And you just want to get a drink without a hassle. But I'll bet you've never been to Kassanir's--just down the street, and they sell for a better price than the hotel lounge." He dug into his pocket for the handheld notepad and pen that always lay within reach. "If you mention my name--it's Laguna, by the way, what's yours?--you get your first drink half-off. Old friendship with the bartender before I, uh, decided I liked the hotel better. Draw you a map?"

"It's Tirney. Yeah, thanks, buddy. You ex-soldiers are all right." And Tirney leaned heavily against Laguna while he drew--less a display of camaraderie than a simple lack of balance.

_"Don't,"_ Ward lay a hand on Kiros' arm as the dark man ran towards the confrontation, reaching behind him for a katal. _"Under control."_ The motions still moved stiffly with him, thick fingers struggling to remember and master the tiny intricacies of syllables.

"So I see." Kiros relaxed, grinned, a sudden flash of bright teeth in brown face. "How in the hell does he _do_ that?"

_"One of mysteries. About. Very few."_ Ward scowled, the gesture oddly out of place on his big but mild face as he struggled with the words.

"One of Laguna's few mysteries. I get you." Kiros frowned as, with a final slap on the back, Laguna sent Tirney on his way. "Cheery, isn't he?"

_"Home. Once was."_

"Nostalgia, yes. But he's been tight like a bowstring since we left Winhill. He's almost like his old self."

Ward smiled serenely, finally remembering the right signs. _"He has faith and he has luck. It's all he needs."_

"You think it'll last once we leave Deling City and he's not wrapped up in good times anymore?"

Ward shrugged, but his expression turned sad.

__

"Hey! Kiros! Ward! Tirney said his friend Wret might have seen Ellone at the train station at dock number five! We're back in business!" Laguna pumped a cheery fist into the air, beckoning them onward as he started off at a trot.

"Luck in abundance," Kiros breathed. "For his sake, it had better hold out."


End file.
